


All best-laid plans

by UnproblematicMe



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Threats of Violence (but not really bad here)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:20:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26718919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnproblematicMe/pseuds/UnproblematicMe
Summary: Short Story for the server prompt "Interrupted"Aziraphale can't help helping.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 64
Collections: Good Omens Fic Writers Workshop: Weekly Prompts





	All best-laid plans

Somewhere in London, in the jewellery store “Diamonds and Pearls” stood two men: Mr. William Gordon, a thin, grey-haired man and owner of the store and Darren Michaels, a muscular young fellow, currently unemployed. Both men were nervous, but one might argue that Mr. Gordon had much more reason to be. Firstly, Darren was wearing a mask, covering all of his face, except for his eyes. Secondly, the masked man pointed a knife at Mr. Gordon which was rude and dangerous.

Or one could say, both had the same amount of reason to be nervous, but Darren had brought this upon himself while Mr. Gordon had had no say in it.

Nevertheless, of course Mr. Gordon knew that the other man’s nervousness added to the danger he was in. So he used all his powers of persuasion to calm Darren down. Mr. Gordon was willing to give the jumpy young guy anything. Being a professional, Mr. Gordon had his paperwork in order and had carefully documented every piece. There was nothing in this store the insurance would not cover should the robber steal it.

The only problem was that Darren did not want the jewellery. Unfortunately for Mr. Gordon, Darren was smart enough to see that every single piece was unique and would be hard to sell for a part time criminal with no notable contacts in the underworld.

“Keep this stuff,” Darren said. “I know your weekly walk to the bank is due today. Your safe should be full to the brim.”

“I wouldn’t say ‘to the brim’, but…”

“Shut up! Just open the thing.”

“I can’t!”

“What do you mean? This is your shop, isn’t it?”

“Yes, but still the insurance company insists on a time-coded lock on the safe,” Mr. Gordon explained. “The door won’t budge for the next…” he checked his watch, “four hours and 35 minutes.”

Darren narrowed his eyes, staring at Mr. Gordon through the dark mask.

“You’re lying!” he yelled, waving his knife around.

“I assure you, I am not!” Mr. Gordon held his hands up in a placating gesture that unfortunately did nothing to placate Darren.

“Listen, man,” Darren said, almost out of breath. “You open the damn thing or…”

The shop’s bell rang and two middle-aged men, one tall and thin with dark red hair, one shorter and fuller with blond curls, walked in. Unbeknownst to each other both Mr. Gordon and Darren knew the two. One was Aziraphale Fell who owned the bookshop with the funny business times a few blocks away. The other was his dramatic friend with the expensive car, Mr. Crowley, who probably was either a rich heir or a criminal since he seemed to have more money than was good for him, despite hanging around his friend’s bookshop almost all day.

The two men passed the sales area, bickering over Mr. Crowley’s driving style. They were engrossed in each other, paying no mind to their surroundings.

Only when they stood right at the counter, they noticed Mr. Gordon while Darren Michaels still went completely unnoticed by them.

“Good day, dear fellow,” Mr. Fell spoke.

“Yeah, hi!” Mr. Crowley added.

“Erm, gentlemen…” Mr. Gordon said, but was interrupted.

“We’re getting married and need matching rings.”

“That is wonderful. Congratulations, but…”

“And it would be lovely if you could engrave them.”

“I will be happy to be of service, gentlemen,” Mr. Gordon said. “But this is a very bad time.”

At the last sentence he tilted his head towards Darren, finally directing Fell’s and Crowley’s attention to the masked man. Darren was still processing the new development. While scouting the store he had found it always empty at this time of the day. That was why he was here now. He had not anticipated the two customers. Slowly he realized that he should react. So he gestured with his knife.

“Okay, you two get over there and don’t move!”

“Oh dear,” Mr. Fell sighed as if he had found a stain in a tablecloth. “I really do not like weapons.”

“You heard my angel, boy,” Mr. Crowley said. “Put it down.”

“Like Hell I will,” Darren exclaimed. “Everybody do as I say and nobody gets hurt.”

“But of course nobody will get hurt,” Mr. Fell said. “You wouldn’t want anyone to get hurt. You are a good person.”

“I...”

“Yes, indeed. You would never do something like this for selfish reasons, would you?” Mr. Fell asked and Darren felt like something was brushing over his soul. “But would the person you are doing this for really want this?”

Darren swallowed as unbidden Samantha’s face appeared in his mind. Her warm and kind eyes, her lovely smile. She was such a caring soul. No, Sam would not want this, but the baby would need food and clothes. But also a father that was there, not one in jail.

“Now, put it down,” Mr. Crowley said, tone indicating his declining patience. “It’s not that it actually does something, right?”

With three fast steps Mr. Crowley passed the room and pressed against the knife’s fake blade to make it disappear into the handle.

“How…?” Darren stared at Mr. Crowley in disbelief. This theatre prop had been in his family for ages and no outsider ever before had been able to tell it was only a fake knife.

“Spent some time at the theatre in… a while back.” Mr. Crowley shrugged while ripping of Darren’s mask.

Mr. Gordon was relieved to see his customers unharmed and to find that he had never been in danger. He was, however, very angry as well. For the scare the young man had given him and for the waste of his time.

“I’m calling the police,” he announced and grabbed the receiver of his phone.

Suddenly he felt Mr. Fell’s hand on his. Mr. Gordon had no idea how Fell had gotten over to him so quickly, but found his anger fading when he looked into the strange fellow’s soft face.

“Is this really necessary?” Mr. Fell asked. “Nobody was hurt and nothing was stolen.”

“He pointed a knife at me!”

“A _fake_ knife,” Mr. Fell said. “And he is very sorry. Isn’t that right, young man?”

Both Fell and Gordon turned their gaze to Darren. Trying hard to stay angry, Mr. Gordon could not help but feel sorry for the young man who despite his tall and broad frame suddenly looked very small. His head hung in shame, his shoulders slumped, Darren lifted his gaze hesitantly.

“I’m very sorry, sir,” he said. “I… don’t know what I was thinking. Ha, I guess I do know: nothing. You know the bank around the corner that closed a few weeks ago? I worked as security there. They gave me my last cheque the day my girlfriend told me she was pregnant. I… I panicked. But I never would have hurt you.”

Mr. Gordon sighed. He could not quite understand himself, but he made a decision.

“Fine,” he said. “Next time think about the fact that even a fake knife can give an old man a heart attack, will you?”

“Y… yes, of course, sir,” Darren said with a miserable expression on his face.

“Good, you may go,” Mr. Gordon announced with a casual wave of his hand.

“Thank you, sir!” Darren nodded at the other three men in the room and wanted to leave, but Mr. Fell stopped him.

Now it was Darren wondering how Mr. Fell could have moved so fast.

“Maybe you should stay and we see if you two,” Mr. Fell gestured between Darren and Mr. Gordon, “cannot help each other out.”

“Oh, angel, let the man gooooo,” Mr. Crowley groaned, exasperated. “We have a reservation in an hour and knowing you, picking a ring will take forever without you trying to solve everyone’s problems.”

“Oh, hush, you,” Mr. Fell said fondly before addressing Mr. Gordon, “If this whole ordeal proved something, it is that you need a security guard, didn’t it, Mr. Gordon? You must have thought about it before.”

“Well, yes, I have, but…”

“And young…” Mr. Fell turned to Darren. “What’s your name, dear?”

“Da…Darren Michaels, sir.”

“Young Darren here has experience in the field,” Mr. Fell said happily.

It took Mr. Gordon a while to process Mr. Fell’s line of thinking. When he finally caught up, his mouth fell open and he sputtered, “Are… are you, in all honesty, suggesting I hire the man who tried to rob my store as a security guard?”

“Well, young Darren seems like a bright fellow,” Mr. Fell said. “I’m sure he observed your shop before acting. He probably knows its weak spots by now.”

“I agreed to let him go, but I am hardly obliged to give him a chance to _work_ for me!”

“Of course you aren’t _obliged_ ,” Mr. Fell hurried to say. “But you may want to, maybe? Sometimes giving a chance can have a real impact on somebody life.”

Mr. Gordon’s lashes fluttered as he for a second felt light-headed. Suddenly the memory of good old James Carrington came to his mind. This man had been so kind to Mr. Gordon, finding him crying in the cold when his father had kicked him out. He had taken him in, taught him his business, treated him like a son. There had been no reason for James to give the pale, plain and taciturn youth a home and a job. But James Carrington had done it and helped carve a path for Mr. Gordon much brighter than the one he would have chosen on his own.

With an exasperated sigh Mr. Gordon pinched his nose bridge between his index finger and thumb.

“Mr. Michaels, as you can see I have customers now,” he said. “I suggest you go home to get your paperwork. I’ll expect you in an hour for your job interview. I appreciate punctuality. Am I understood?”

Darren did not answer immediately, but Mr. Gordon did not blame him. The development was strange enough to make following very hard.

“Erm, yes, of course, Mr.Gordon, sir,” Darren said a few moments later. “I… I’ll be back on time.”

“I sure hope so,” Mr. Gordon said sternly as he watched Darren rush out of the store.

He shook his head in disbelief at the situation and took a deep breath. Then he clasped his hands in front of his body and smiled at Mr. Fell and Mr. Crowley, trying to act like this was not the second weirdest day of his life.

“Wedding rings you said?”

The End


End file.
